One Step at a Time
by corneroffandom
Summary: After Elimination Chamber, Alberto moves beyond Big Show to focus on his challenges leading up to Wrestlemania. Unfortunately, he's alone in this matter.


After Elimination Chamber, Alberto Del Rio's attention turns from Big Show to his new challenger, Jack Swagger. The nationalist sprewing man and his new mouthpiece, Zeb Colter, frustrates him and leaves him vulnerable, unable to see that even if he'd moved on from past issues, others hadn't as quickly. Only a week after the Chamber, Ricardo Rodriguez goes on ahead to check out the locker room, set their bags inside before one of the many interviews they'd been requested for following his title victory.

Alberto watches him go, a small smile on his lips before he turns and walks in the opposite direction, the steady weight of his belt against his shoulder a constant reminder that, unless something horrible and unforeseen happens in the next couple of months, he'll be heading into Wrestlemania World Heavyweight Champion. His career had turned on a dime, all of the failures and shortcomings from the year prior seemingly forgotten, as soon as he'd seen the error of his ways: for a man who'd spent so long believing in _destiny_, he now thinks he believes in _karma_, since good things had only begun happening to him when he'd begun treating people better, his ego humbled over time.

He sighs and hoists his belt higher, taking a breath, and goes to wait by the office set aside for this interview for WWE Magazine. He expects Ricardo to be by shortly, but by the time the crew begins setting up various things they'll need to transcribe what's said inside, there's still been no sign of the younger man. Frowning, he pulls out his cell phone and dials him, dark eyes flickering down the hallway as he expects to see the ring announcer rushing his way, apologetic and frazzled, but it's still as empty as it was the last time he'd looked. When the call goes to voicemail, the foreboding shivering down his spine multiplies until he feels ill. Ricardo _always_ answers his phone, no matter what.

Forgetting about the interview completely, he turns back towards his locker room and begins walking through the hall, ignoring all of the funny looks he receives. His senses are on hyperdrive, eyes wide and nose flaring as he comes in sight of the door with the special plaque with his name on it. "Ricardo-" he starts to say, unlocking and pushing the door open. He immediately comes to a stop when he realizes that the room's dark, fumbling for the light switch with uncertain fingers. His voice dies when his eyes finally clear from the sudden flash of bright light overwhelming the thorough darkness, registering how Ricardo's prone form is sprawled on the floor as if he'd just missed the couch, the younger man struggling to get to his feet while gripping his throat. "Ricardo!" He dashes over to him, gripping his hands and trying to see what's going on, his lips tightening when he spots bruising around his fingers. "What happened?!"

Despite his every attempt, no words come from Ricardo's mouth and Del Rio shakes his head in fear. He finally taps the title belt, mouthing something over and over again and it comes to Alberto as the ring announcer struggles to breathe in his arms, his eyes fluttering as energy drains from his body. "Big Show?" he hisses, just barely holding on to his temper as he supports Ricardo. "Ay, no, no... That _perro,_" he groans, easing Ricardo to the floor before standing. "Wait, I'll- I'll be right back, mi amigo." He rushes for the door and looks back and forth, not wanting to risk Show to return or someone else to come and hurt him further, but they need a trainer. "HEY! I need help in here," he yells at a nearby group of referees. "Get the trainer!"

As the men disperse, he turns back to his friend to find his grip on consciousness has faded, a hand still held to his throat even as he slumps back against the floor, eyes fluttering. "Ricardo," he hisses, his heart sinking as he returns to his side. "Take it easy, take it easy." He has little doubt that he's suffering some kind of throat trauma, knowing that his breathing is probably affected, explaining his loss of strength. "I've got you. The trainer will be here shortly. Just... just stay with me."

Despite it all, Ricardo seems to hear him, his hand wearily fluttering up and tightening around Alberto's scarf, clinging desperately as the Mexican aristocrat watches, listens to his strained, struggled breaths. It's horrifying to watch and when, finally, the trainer rushes in, Alberto almost feels like collapsing himself, but he forces himself to remain strong. "What happened?" the older man demands, quickly running his hands along Ricardo's throat and chest, frown growing.

"Big Show," is all he says. "I don't know what he did. I, I wasn't... I wasn't here." He swallows. "Lo siento, Ricardo. I should've been here."

"We need to move him," the trainer mumbles. "His breathing is..." His words trail away as he looks up, snagging his bag and bringing it closer. He digs around inside while Alberto watches, hand on Ricardo's trembling shoulder. He moves quickly, pulls a couple of things out before leaning over the ring announcer, unable to wait any longer. While Alberto watches in disturbed amazement, he deftly slices into his skin with a blade and stuffs a small tube inside all in one movement, the Mexican aristocrat's eyes widening in horror until he realizes that it'd worked- the younger man takes in a breath and another, his body starting to relax as it finally gains access to what it'd been denied for too long already. "It's not pretty, but it's effective," the trainer explains to the tense man. "If I had time to warn you, I would've, but he'd been deprived of oxygen for too long as it is. This bypasses his throat injury and gives him a better chance until we can get him to the ER."

Alberto nods, trying not to look at his friend's throat even as he runs a hand through the younger man's hair, relieved to see his color slowly returning to normal. "You'll be fine, mi amigo. We'll get you the best care. And he will pay for whatever he did to you," he vows quietly, resting his hand on Ricardo's forehead. "Just breathe..."

And he does, through the transport from the arena to ambulance, during the ride to the ER, and through the quick examination and doctor's discussion with Alberto. "Surgery," is the first word that really registers with the Mexican aristocrat from the stoic man standing before him, and time seems to stop.

"What- what do you mean?" he asks blankly, not understanding. "Surgery?"

"Yes, sir. There's damage to his larynx and vocal chords that we need to repair. Once that's done, he'll be able to breathe normally again so we need to move as quickly as possible."

"His vocal chords?" Del Rio repeats in a daze, everything cascading down upon him at once. "Ay dios mio..." He scrubs at his face, shaking his head in disbelief. "Fine, fine. Just... please keep me updated."

"I will have a nurse come out regularly," the man nods, turning on his heel and returning to his patient. Alberto can do nothing but stand and watch through the window as they bustle around inside the room, preparing Ricardo for transport to the OR, his heart beating hard in his chest as the seconds tick by.

When his bed is finally pushed out into the hallway, Alberto approaches, asking for a moment. This granted, he rests his hand on the younger man's forehead, the selfish, desperate part of him wishing that he's awake so he can look him in the eye, but another part of him relieved he's out, away from the pain that he'd been in earlier. "I'll be waiting for you, mi amigo. Everything will be alright," he promises quietly. "I'll see you soon." He strokes his hair a time or two before forcing himself away, standing and blinking blankly as the staff takes his friend away, his face tight with pain and tension.

The doctor stays true to his word, a nurse coming every hour or so and keeping Del Rio apprised of what's going on, the surgery's progress on track with the doctor's timeline. No serious complications or delays, Ricardo hanging in there during the delicate procedure. Finally the nurse comes to him with a small smile, touching his arm. "They'll be closing him up shortly. He'll be in recovery for a bit, then we'll let you in to see him. But he'll probably be out for awhile, the sedation will keep him under. And that's a good thing, it'll help him rest, recover from the surgery quicker. I'll come back when you can see him."

"Thank you," he mumbles as he watches her walk back into the innards of the hospital. No matter what she says, he won't feel good until he sees his friend again, watch him breathe, hear his voice. The fact that Ricardo hadn't woke up between the attack and surgery so they could at least have a few moments eats at him, leaves him lost. "He'll be ok. He's strong... He has to be..."

He's still standing there, frozen in time, when she finds him again, smiling sympathetically. "Mr. Del Rio?" When he jerks and turns to look at her, her eyes soften. "You can see him now. Follow me." He nods tensely and does so, down one hallway and another until she reaches his room and pushes the door open. "He's sharing the room with another man who'd just recently gotten out of surgery as well..." He barely registers her words as he catches sight of Ricardo for the first time, overwhelmed by all of the machines and tubes connected to him. "Those are just to keep him hydrated and comfortable after surgery," she tells him quietly. "Try not to worry."

He nods, scrubs at his mouth, nods again. "Gracias," he mumbles, distracted, as he approaches the bed containing his friend. "Ricardo..." His face falls. "Lo siento, I should've... I should've been there." He reaches out and takes his hand, squeezing gently as he tries not to react at just how cold the younger man's skin feels. "I'm here now though. You'll be fine."

He stays with him, watching the machines surrounding him, recording his vitals and other things he's unsure about, half-listening as the nurses outside wander back and forth, their shoes squeaking against the tile unceasingly. He sighs and lowers his head, examining his own hands, when he notices movement and glances up in time to see Ricardo's fingers twitch against the bedding. He blinks and looks up, almost hoping that his friend would be awake, but his eyes are still closed, breathing quiet and slow. "It's ok, just rest," he murmurs, pressing his hand against Ricardo's. "I'm not going anywhere."

Alberto's not sure how much time has passed when his eyes begin to flutter, the machines marking changes in his heart rate as he begins to come to. "Ricardo?" he breathes, leaning closer. "Can you hear me?" He laughs faintly when Ricardo's fingers tighten around his hand slightly, but just enough for him to notice. "Mi amigo. You're awake?"

It takes a few more moments but finally his eyes open slowly and Alberto grins so hard that it almost hurts, resting a hand on his forehead. He stares vacantly at him, confusion and pain in his eyes, and Del Rio's grin slips just a little. "It's ok," he whispers. "It's ok. I'll get the nurse, she'll help you feel better." As much as he wants him to stay awake, ensure that he's ok, he can't stand to see the younger man in pain but when he tries to stand up, Ricardo's fingers remain tight around his and he hesitates, turning to look at him. "Amigo?"

He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but Del Rio presses a finger to his lips, stopping him immediately. "No, no, amigo. Shhh. You just got out of throat surgery. You're going to be ok but you can't talk for awhile, alright? Understand?" When he nods, Alberto smiles at him and moves his finger away. "I'll be right back." Ricardo nods again and he slowly takes his leave of the room, keeping his emotions to himself until he's out of sight, leaning against the door and sucking in a deep breath, shaking his head at the circumstances. When a nurse walks by a few moments later, he reaches out for her. "Excuse me, por favor. Ricardo- he woke up and he's in pain. Can you-?"

"Oh, of course," she says, smiling at him as she follows him into the room, pausing only long enough to collect a vial of pain medicine from a nearby cart. "Hello, Mr. Rodriguez," she greets the ring announcer. "My name is Louise." He blinks at her and she nods, easily filling the IV with the pain medicine. "This should help you to feel better. Don't try fighting the need to sleep, it'll help you recover quicker," she tells him when she steps back to check his vitals. As his eyes flutter shut, she turns back to Alberto. "He should be alright now. I'll be back in a little bit to check on him again, but he'll probably be out for a few hours, at least."

"Thank you," he mutters, leaning closer once she leaves the room and resting a hand on his friend's forehead, relieved that he seems to be resting comfortably. "Big Show will pay for this, mi amigo, I promise."

Recovery is slow, even once the most of the medicine is out of his system and Ricardo can keep his eyes open for longer than five minutes, but the doctors and specialists promise that it's normal- his throat will be inflamed for awhile following surgery, and he won't be able to talk without pain for awhile. Alberto nods through all of their claims, not wanting his friend in anymore pain, but the more time passes, the more he misses hearing the younger man's voice, it being the guiding force through most of his matches for the last few years. They sit there in silence, Del Rio watching him as he blinks tiredly through one boring daytime show after another, the speech therapist who comes in finally on the third day the only real distraction they have had as she tries to help him to form words, each attempt failing.

After a few tries, she frowns and stands up, nodding subtly to Alberto. He pats his friend on the shoulder before following her out into the hallway outside of his hospital room. "What's wrong?"

She worries her lip before turning to look at him, eyes dark with something that he thinks might be foreboding. "Mr. Del Rio, the doctors were right when they told you he would have difficulty talking for awhile after surgery, but he should be saying _something_ by now. I've read his file, I know how he acquired these injuries. A rival of yours, yes?"

Alberto cringes, nodding. "Si, yes unfortunately. If... he should be talking, but isn't, what should we do? How can we help him?"

She takes a moment, weighing her answer, before sighing. "It may be psychological," she says slowly. "Something keeping him from talking- the attack, or other traumas he may have endured in life." She glances at him, taking in the stricken look on his face. "Sir, I would at least explore the possibility. Call in a therapist, see if any progress can be made. He'll be released shortly, since we have no physical reason to hold him at this time." She checks her files before patting his arm, smiling sympathetically. "I can recommend some good psychiatrists while he's still in the hospital, if you would like."

Del Rio nods grimly, still trying to wrap his head around all of this. "Yes, thank you." Once she walks off to collect the information for him, he returns to his best friend's room and hesitates at the doorway, staring at him. Ricardo's livelihood had mostly been his voice, be it by announcing him, mocking his opponents, or using it to work the crowd up in support of him, and to think of him being unable to use it... He shakes his head, walking into the room fully. As Ricardo watches him tiredly, he rests a hand on the younger man's shoulder and squeezes gently. "Is ok, mi amigo. I'll fix this, I swear to you."

A therapist comes, as do other specialists, but they all agree with the initial diagnosis. Ricardo's face falls as Alberto talks with all of them, nodding where needed but mostly listening quietly to their flood of words and medical terms. "Si," he murmurs when one of the many people he sees those few days tells him perhaps getting Ricardo back to a familiar place- his home- will assist in his physical and emotional recovery. "I believe you're right."

Returning to his friend's bedside, he gently squeezes the back of his neck, forcing a smile when Ricardo looks up at him, eyes drowning in misery and unshed tears, lips parting as he tries and fails yet again to speak, each breath stuttering out of him painfully. "No, no, mi amigo, it's going to be ok. Relax, si? I'm here, you're going to be fine."

He mouths something and it takes a couple of tries for Alberto to understand, but when he does, his heart sinks. _My job._ Del Rio shakes his head and pulls him closer, stroking his fingers through his hair.

"Don't worry about that, everything will be fine. Your position as my ring announcer will be waiting for you once we work through this," he promises, closing his eyes as his best friend trembles against him. "It'll be ok, Ricardo. I promise. Just relax, por favor..."

Finally released from the hospital a couple of days later, Ricardo looks balefully around at the outside world for the first time since his surgery, feeling even more vulnerable than usual without his greatest strength- his voice- to guide him. Alberto squeezes his shoulder and smiles plaintively at him. "Amigo, are you ready to go home?" When Ricardo nods wearily, the Mexican aristocrat nods back, guiding him towards the parking lot. "Let's go then."

The flight home is long, Ricardo sleeping most of the time, and only waking up when the attendant cuts into the intercom, announcing descent would begin shortly. Alberto smiles and pats his arm, trying to reorient him as he looks around, blinking tiredly. "Amigo, you know who's waiting to fuss over you when we land?" His friend shakes his head slowly and Del Rio sighs, trying to grin at him. "Sofia. She wishes she could've been around to help directly after the surgery, but I told her to stay at home and prepare things for your return. I'm sure your room- and probably the whole house- will be even more spotless than it usually is when we land."

Ricardo looks troubled, his lips tense as he sighs soundlessly. Alberto stares at him for a long moment before tugging out one of the ring announcer's sketch pads that he'd kept on hand in the hospital, using it rarely to communicate when Alberto couldn't tell what he was trying to say by lip reading alone. "What is it, mi amigo?" Ricardo takes the pencil and begins to scribble quickly, watching his employer closely as he reads the words scattered across the page, eyes softening. "Oh, amigo, it's no trouble for her. She wants to make sure you're comfortable when you come home. Trust me, she enjoys taking care of us, si?"

He winces and writes, _I know she does, but... I don't want to impose- she's already so busy..._

"You're never an imposition to her, you know this," Del Rio tells him softly. "Relax, mi amigo. The first thing she asked me when I called her before the flight was what you would like upon arriving. She _wants_ to take care of you. Allow her, or she'll be offended. Si? You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Ricardo smiles faintly, staring down at his hands as he writes. _No, of course not. It just... feels like it happens too often._

"I know what you mean," he admits lowly, feeling badly for the younger man. "But neither of us hold it against you, si? It's just the way of the business, unfortunately. We want to help you, so don't worry or feel like an imposition, ever, because you're far from it. Besides, you're mi mejor amigo, it's my job to make sure you get well."

Ricardo nods, eyes bright with emotions as his employer strokes his hair with soft fingers, smiling sadly at him. _Gracias._ He sighs as Alberto squeezes his fingers and looks up as the seatbelt sign glows, urging them to prepare for landing. Once they've taxied, Alberto stands and waits for his best friend to do the same, the two men walking towards the exit in silence.

They're barely out of the carousel to get their suitcases when Alberto looks up and spots Sofia waiting for them, anxiety pouring from her in waves. He nudges his ring announcer and nods towards the housekeeper, whose face brightens as soon as she spots them. "Senors!" she calls out, holding her arms out to them as they head her way. "Welcome home!" She doesn't even hesitate, wrapping her arms around the ring announcer, surprising him. When she finally pulls away, cupping his face to get a good look at him, he smiles wearily at her. "Senor Rodriguez," she sighs, smiling back. "Come, let's get you home. You both look exhausted."

"Si, Sofia, that sounds fantastic," Alberto tells her, wrapping an arm around Ricardo's shoulders as he leads the younger man through the airport, all three of them ignoring the looks the bandages around his throat are receiving from bored travelers. When they arrive at the car, Alberto slips behind the steering wheel while Sofia joins Ricardo in the backseat, smiling across at him and talking softly throughout the twenty minute drive to Del Rio's house, patting his hand as he listens to her.

When they arrive, the ring announcer leans against the car and stares back at the home, a distant look in his dark eyes, as Sofia waits with him, Del Rio collecting their things from the trunk. "Come, Ricardo," he whispers, urging the man on ahead before glancing over at the housekeeper. She smiles at him, patting his arm comfortingly, before moving ahead to unlock the front door for Ricardo.

He breathes in deeply as he steps into the house, lips trembling as he examines his home, trailing a hand along a nearby table. Alberto squeezes his shoulder, waiting as he inches further into the lobby, taking it all in like he'd not seen it for months, maybe years. He turns back to his employer and smiles shakily, mouthing in the hopes that he'll be understood- "I've missed it."

Sofia's smile turns sad as they lead him down the halls to his bedroom, Alberto's hand steady on his shoulder. Del Rio settles his bag on the floor while she follows him to the bed, helping him line his shoes up under the ridge of the bedside table so he won't trip over them should he wake up. "Get some rest, Senor Rodriguez," she tells him softly, pulling the sheets up to rest across his chest as he sinks into his pillows, eyes already fluttering shut as she trails her fingers through his hair. "Senor Del Rio said something about ordering from your favorite sushi place for supper..." She smiles when he turns his face towards her, lips twitching upwards.

Bag sorted, Alberto joins them and smiles down at his best friend. "That's right, amigo. Does that sound good?" When Ricardo nods, he grins. "Good. Come out when you're hungry and we'll figure out what exactly to get." Another nod from the ring announcer and Alberto rests a hand on Sofia's arm, encouraging her to stand. She does so with a whispered buenas noches to the younger man before following her employer out of the room to let him rest, door left open a crack so they can hear if anything happens. "He'll be ok," he offers to the housekeeper, almost sounding like he's questioning it himself, but she nods reassuringly at him and he smiles back, releasing a tense sigh.

When Ricardo comes out a few hours later, looking sleepy and young, his hair mussed and eyes half-shut as he instinctively stumbles towards the couch, Del Rio looks up with a smile. "Amigo," he greets him, amused as the ring announcer slumps down next to him and yawns quietly. "Sleep well?" Ricardo nods and the Mexican aristocrat's smile grows. "Bueno, I'm glad. Amigo, look what I have," he says, holding out the iPad to him. He blinks at it and Alberto explains, "I was thinking you could use it to communicate... this way you can type out what you want to say in the note feature."

Ricardo's eyes gleam as he takes the device, nodding his understanding as he presses a hand over the glass surface. "Gracias, El Patron," he types, holding it out to his employer. Alberto squeezes his shoulder and leans closer as they stare at the TV, one of the Telemundo shows filling the almost smothering quiet of the room. After pressing on the keypad quickly, he glances at his employer with a small smile. "Sushi?"

"Ah!" the older man laughs, nodding. "Si, lo siento. I forgot for a moment." Calling for Sofia, he finds a menu for the nearest sushi place that actually delivers, the housekeeper joining them. As the three of them look over the food options, Alberto pulling Ricardo closer, smiling in relief at just having him here, where he can be comfortable and safe, recover the rest of the way in a familiar place.

The evening passes simply, food and silly movies filling the hours until Ricardo slumps against his employer's side, asleep. Alberto looks down at him with a smile, absorbing the moment. Soon, he'll have to leave him here to return to the WWE, more than trusting Sofia to keep an eye on him, keep him healthy and happy before his first therapy appointment, which Del Rio had scheduled so he could be present after the next few days of events. Despite knowing that Ricardo will be fine, especially while far away from Big Show and anyone else who could be interested in harming him, he hates it, used to having his best friend by his side.

He lets the younger man rest awhile longer until softly nudging him. "Ricardo, time for bed, mi amigo," he tells him with a soft smile. "Come." Helping him off of the couch, he leads him back to his bedroom and settles him into the bed, pulling the covers up to his shoulders. "Comfortable?" When he nods, Alberto sits down next to him and sighs. "I'll have to leave for WWE events tomorrow, mi amigo. But Sofia will be here for anything you need." Ricardo watches him closely and he pats his arm. "You'll be safe, Ricardo. Everything will be fine. I promise."

"I know," the ring announcer mouths to him. Alberto smiles at him, relieved when he smiles back slightly. He yawns and snuggles into the sheets, eyes fluttering shut a few minutes later. Del Rio watches him for a moment before leaving the room, unsurprised to find Sofia in the hallway, looking unashamed as their eyes lock. He smiles and shakes his head, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they walk side by side to the main part of the house quietly.

"He'll be fine, senor. I'll make sure of it," she promises him once they're far away from the room, won't disturb the younger man's much needed rest.

"I know you will," he tells her quietly. "I still hate leaving him so soon, but I know he's in good hands. Call me if _anything_ happens, I'll be home right away."

"Si, senor, of course." Sofia smiles at him, patting his arm. "But everything'll be just fine, we'll be waiting for you to return. I'll keep him busy."

He smiles at her, only able to imagine what she'll think of for his best friend to do to keep him occupied. "Oh? How so?"

She chuckles softly and steps away from him, looking into the fridge for a moment before pulling out a bottle of water and offering it to him. As he quietly accepts it, eyebrows raised at her, she coughs. "Well, senor, before... everything, he had mentioned to me he would like to learn how to cook. So I think perhaps that will keep him occupied between his therapy appointments and while you're gone."

He tilts his head, considering it. "I believe I remember hearing him say something about that. It sounds perfect, Sofia." He smiles at the housekeeper, relieved yet again that he'd had the foresight to hire her before someone else could've realized what exactly they had before them. "He'll be ecstatic." _I hope,_ he thinks, remembering just how little the ring announcer's smiled since waking up unable to talk.

She nods, eyes soft as she examines her employer. "I'll do everything I can to keep him distracted and entertained, Senor. Try not to worry too much. We'll be fine here."

Alberto nods, smiling at her wearily before he turns and ventures quietly back down the hall to look once more at Ricardo, needing to grab some sleep himself before his flight. If he's able to stop the racing thoughts cycling through his head long enough to close his eyes and relax. Finding his best friend sleeping peacefully, his lips parted as he breathes on softly, he sighs and turns back to his own door, relieved for at least that much.

Leaving Ricardo has always been a rare, uncomfortable circumstance, and this time is no different, although the man is healing well, and there being no doubt that Sofia will take good care of him. The ring announcer is still asleep when he has to leave for the airport, Del Rio not wanting to disturb his rest, so he merely kneels by his bed and smiles at him in the dark room, the sun not even risen yet. "See you soon, mi amigo," he whispers, finally forcing himself to stand once more and leave quietly, nodding at the driver as he takes his bags out to the car so he can talk with Sofia for a moment. "Sofia, muchas gracias. We, _I_ would be lost without you."

-She smiles at him, neither agreeing or disagreeing. "Safe travels, senor," she tells him quietly, leading him to the front door. "I will keep the phone nearby at all times, it will do Senor Rodriguez good to hear your voice."

"Gracias, Sofia. I'll call as soon as we land." He squeezes her arm, glancing once more towards the windows leading into Ricardo's bedroom. With much reluctance, he slips into the backseat of the car and looks out at her through the tinted windows as she waves at the car, waiting in the doorway as it drives away from the house, through the wide driveway towards the street. "Be well, mi amigo," he breathes, hands tense in his lap as he loses sight of his land.

Days away from his home, unable to see the ring announcer directly, eats at Del Rio, adding to his tension and agitation, his matches barely enough to ease his temper. The only bright spot to his week is when he gets to sit in his hotel room, cell phone held to his shoulder as he packs, preparing to return home. "I'll be on the flight back to Florida shortly, amigo," he tells the still mute young man, his breathing the only sign that he remains on the other side of the phone. "You should've seen those idiotas, 3MB, this week," he continues to speak, telling the younger man all of the ridiculous backstage shenanigans with a growing smile as he imagines his friend's reactions to them as the sounds of his breathing changes, he obviously silently laughing on the other end.

He zips his bag up and smiles into the phone. "I have to go, amigo. Time to get to the airport. I'll see you shortly." He listens to Ricardo's soft breathing for a moment, lips twisting sadly. "Mind giving the phone to Sofia?" He can tell when the phone exchanges hands, the housekeeper whispering to Ricardo as she takes it from him. "Sofia?"

"Si, senor?"

"Did the therapist call to confirm his appointment?" he asks, all focus on her even as he enters the elevator and directs it to the lobby, relieved to see this trip come to an end.

"Si, she did. First thing in the morning," Sofia confirms. "Senor... do you think it'll help?"

He has his doubts as well, giving himself a moment before answering as he hands over his keycard to the hotel worker and accepting a printout from her, signing it quickly. Once she confirms he's checked out, he leaves the hotel. "It has to," he finally says, slipping into his car to head for the airport. "It _will._ Ricardo will... work through whatever this is. He'll... be healthy again soon." He refuses to believe anything else.

When he arrives home, it's late afternoon and he's exhausted, the unending flight leaving him all the more anxious to see his ring announcer, make sure that things are as ok as Sofia had promised they were the last time they talked. He sinks into the rental car and sighs, staring at the blue sky with a wan smile, before putting it into gear and setting off for his home. The drive thankfully goes by quickly, Alberto stopping in his driveway and leaving the car for one of his staff to drive carefully into one of his garages, walking at double speed to the house. "Ricardo?" he calls into the empty foyer. "Sofia?"

There's a small clatter in the kitchen and he blinks, heading that way. "Senor, in here," his housekeeper finally calls out, the cheerful tone in her voice easing some of his tension. As he reaches the doorway, his eyes soften as he takes in the scene of his ring announcer sitting at the counter, stirring at some dough with the attention that he gives parking one of Del Rio's priceless cars the rare times he allows him to drive, eyes squinting as he tries to do it perfectly, a bottle of vanilla sitting nearby as Sofia watches him closely. "Senor, take a break," she tells him finally, patting his arm until he stops and puts the spoon down once more.

Ricardo blinks and looks up, finally spotting Del Rio in the doorway, lips parting in surprise before he grins and nods, carefully resting the spoon in the batter. "El Patron," he mouths, his grin fading slightly when Alberto looks at him sympathetically, patting him on the arm as he enters the kitchen.

"What are you two up to?" he asks, looking into the bowl in front of his ring announcer with a small smile.

"Baking, senor," Sofia says. "Ricardo wanted to make your favorite dessert."

"Apple turnovers?" Alberto sits on a stool next to Ricardo's, smiling at his best friend as he takes in the cinnamon-y smell filling the house.

"Si," the housekeeper agrees as Ricardo nods, glancing once more at the dough that's supposed to be the shell. "We finished the apple filling already, and the dough is almost finished. Just in time for dessert tonight."

"It smells fantastic already," he says, patting the ring announcer on the jaw before turning back to the housekeeper. "Sofia, is it alright if I borrow Ricardo for awhile?"

"Of course, Senor, you don't need to ask," she tells him with a small smile. "I can finish up here. Gracias, Ricardo, for the help. I'll make a baker out of you yet."

The younger man grins at her sheepishly as his employer leads him out the kitchen door, through a small garden that lines the way to the spacious yard where they wander for awhile in silence. Finally Alberto stops and rests a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. "Amigo, I'm sure you remember that your first therapist appointment is in the morning." Ricardo nods and Del Rio sighs. "How do you feel? Ready for it?"

Ricardo sniffs and nods again, eyes wide and locked on Del Rio's face as he rubs his shoulder.

"You'll be ok, mi amigo. They might not allow me inside the room for it, but I'll be waiting outside for you. If you need _anything,_ I'll be right there, si?" Alberto smiles at his best friend, who still looks a little uncertain and anxious about it. "I promise."

"Si," he mouths, trying hard to smile back at him through the flood of emotions he's struggling through.

Del Rio sighs and pats his chest, shaking his head. "Don't feel like you have to be brave on my account, amigo. We'll get through this, but you have to be honest about your emotions, especially with the therapist. She just wants to help you, and I want you to be healthy and whole in all ways. Alright?"

Ricardo nods, his smile slipping as Alberto cups his jaw, staring deep into his eyes. When he finally loses tenuous control of his emotions and begins to cry silently, Alberto's face falls too and he collects his ring announcer into a hug, stroking his hair. He can feel how he's shaking, mouth opening and closing in fruitless attempts to speak against his chest, and it breaks Del Rio all the further.

They stand there quietly, Del Rio making soft, sympathetic noises, knowing better than to try to quiet him. Letting it out, especially after all of this time, is good for him, and he thinks perhaps Ricardo will be more comfortable with the memory by doing it merely in his presence than in front of the therapist, who probably will have his best interest in mind, but ultimately would be a stranger. When he finally shudders and sniffs to a stop, Alberto sighs quietly against his neck, giving him time to decide when to pull away.

When he does, his eyes are narrowed, staring down at his feet and Del Rio watches him, sadness in his own eyes. He finally looks up, tears still caught in his lashes, and he shakes his head glumly, mouthing an apology to his employer. Alberto sighs, gingerly wiping the moisture away from his face. "No apologies, amigo. You're fine."

Ricardo takes a breath, shuffling slowly away from his employer, and looks up at the sky. His gaze far away when Del Rio approaches him, he turns after a few moments and looks back at him, forcing a smile that almost hurts Alberto more than any other expression he'd seen from the younger man this evening, it looking so fake.

The next morning, Alberto is awake hours before the appointment, standing outside of Ricardo's room and trying to figure out a good time to wake the younger man up, if he's even asleep. He finally swallows and enters around 6:45, staring down at the ring announcer. "Amigo?" he whispers, gently touching his arm. "Wake up, we have to get ready for your appointment soon."

Ricardo's lips move silently in his sleep as he tosses and turns away from Alberto, his breathing speeding up as Alberto frowns down at him, realizing that he's clammy and tense.

_Nightmare,_ Del Rio realizes painfully. "Oh, amigo," he breathes, wondering how many of these he's possibly had, with no one realizing due to his inability to cry out. "It's ok, I'm here. Come on." He lifts him and holds him closely, stroking the back of his neck and head until he stirs, whatever hell he was trapped in finally releasing him. "You're ok. Everything's fine, mi amigo."

Ricardo breathes heavily against him, clinging to his shirt as he mouths something pointlessly. Alberto pulls back after a few minutes and hands him his iPad with a soft, weary smile. The ring announcer stares at the screen for a moment before typing slowly into it, fingers trembling so hard that the process takes longer than usual. When he's done, he hands it over to the older man and lays back, miserable tears dripping down his face.

_You were being attacked and I couldn't even say anything to try to help,_ is all that it says and Del Rio pats his face absently. "It's going to be fine, amigo. We'll get you on a regular schedule with the therapist and we'll get this figured out. I swear, everything will work out." Ricardo nods glumly against his throat and he smiles faintly, stroking the ring announcer's face. "Are you ready to get out of bed, prepare for your appointment?" Another nod and Alberto nods back. "Bueno, let's go, mi amigo."

The office they find themselves at barely an hour later is simple, classic. It's quiet inside, calm music playing on the intercom, and Ricardo takes it all in with an anxious gaze, Alberto going to tell the woman behind the desk that he's there for his appointment. Her smile only helps a little, Alberto hoping that the therapist is as friendly and soft spoken, knowing that that's what Ricardo needs, especially now. "She'll be ready for you shortly, amigo," he tells the ring announcer as he rejoins him. When Ricardo nods jerkily, he sighs. "It'll be fine. I promise you."

Ricardo nods again, looking only a little calmer. He breathes in as he takes in the various artwork scattered along the walls, pondering them for a few moments before moving onto the next. Finally he grips his iPad and begins to type into it, pausing now and again to think before he begins to formulate his thoughts into words once more. When he finally hands it over, he looks nervous, like he wants to snatch it back and erase everything, but he holds back with all of his might, swallowing as Del Rio reads it with a growing frown. _What if she can't help me? What if... I never speak again?_

Alberto scoops the iPad out of his hands and presses the button to turn the screen black, staring him deep in the eye. "Don't think like that, mi amigo," he says softly. "You _will_ speak again, I have no doubt. You just have to be patient. Si?" He smiles at the younger man, patting him on the jaw as Ricardo nods grimly, his eyes dark with pain and uncertainty. "If you can't trust in that, believe in it, then I'll have to believe for the both of us. Things will work out. I promise."

Ricardo closes his eyes, nodding once more. _I trust in you,_ he mouths, opening his eyes to find Alberto smiling sadly at him, eyes gleaming with bittersweet fondness for the ring announcer. They sit in silence then, Del Rio's hand steady between his shoulder blades, rubbing soothingly while they wait.

"Mr. Rodriguez?" the receptionist calls a moment later, jerking them both out of their thoughts. "The therapist is ready to see you now."

Ricardo stands, looking anxious, and Alberto joins him, resting a hand on his arm. "You'll be fine, mi amigo. I'll be right out here waiting for you." He smiles at him in what he hopes is a soothing expression, before gently pushing him towards the waiting woman. "I'll see you soon."

Del Rio waits, standing, as the ring announcer disappears into the office he's guided into, releasing a soft breath as he slumps back down into the chair, wondering what their options will be just in case this _ doesn't_ work. "No," he mumbles. _Don't think like that, Del Rio. It _has_ to work..._ He's still sitting there, watching the clock as time ticks by horribly slowly, as people come and go. There are stacks of magazines nearby but none interest him, his hands too jittery to hold onto anything, much less his mind to absorb the words on the pages.

Finally an hour passes and he looks up as the door that Ricardo had disappeared behind opens, the ring announcer appearing and nodding at whatever the therapist is saying as she follows him out, a tired look on his face as he fiddles with his iPad. He spots Alberto and quickly smiles at the woman before rejoining his employer. _El Patron,_ he types. _Can we go home now? I'm tired._

"Of course," he tells him. He wants so badly to ask the therapist for information but Ricardo needs him, so he nods at the woman and, hands warm on the man's shoulders, leads him out of the office, heading back to the car. "Did it go alright? Did you like her?" Ricardo nods and Alberto smiles at him. "I'm glad, mi amigo. You'll be alright returning here regularly?" Another nod and Del Rio sighs. "Alright, amigo. Let's get you home, hmm?"

Another nod and they do exactly that, Sofia meeting them at the front door with a small smile. Alberto nods at her as she holds the door open for them, Ricardo trudging into the living room to sit and relax for awhile. Del Rio says very little, letting him decide what he wants to do. "How about some TV, mi amigo?" When the ring announcer nods listlessly, he turns the device on, flipping channels until he finds something that he thinks he remembers seeing Ricardo watch in the past. Either way, he doesn't complain when Del Rio stops there, so he sits back and tries to focus on the show, although his thoughts are too scattered for such meaningless nonsense.

It seems like only minutes pass when a warm weight rests on his shoulder, Alberto freezing for a moment before looking down to find that Ricardo had dozed off, slumping over until his head had dropped onto Alberto. The Mexican aristocrat smiles as he rests a hand on the ring announcer's forehead, clicking his tongue gently. "You'll be fine, this'll all work out... I swear."

Time passes, Wrestlemania looming nearer, and although Ricardo's therapist insists he's making slow progress, Alberto can sense how impatient the ring announcer is becoming with himself, wanting to be well enough in time to announce his employer for the biggest show of the year. After another lengthy discussion with the therapist, she agrees that perhaps Ricardo going to a WWE event would be good for him, help him to further along his recovery. This is the answer Alberto had been hoping for, grinning down at his best friend as he sits down next to him. "Guess what, mi amigo?"

Ricardo blinks curiously at him and he grins, looking forward to having him back by his side, even if it's just for one night. _What?_ he types into the ever present iPad.

"Your therapist and I've been talking and she agrees... you can accompany me to Raw this week, if you feel up to it." He smiles down at his ring announcer, eyes softening as Ricardo's whole face lights up. "Is that something you'd like to do, mi amigo?"

_Si, por favor, I would. I've missed traveling with you, and being present for your matches. El Patron, please..._

"Alright," he mumbles. "We'll try it." He's not entirely comfortable with the timing for this idea, especially considering Swagger's growing animosity towards him, but he wonders if perhaps the familiarity of traveling to an arena and seeing all of the superstars once more would be good for Ricardo, somehow help him move past all of this.

Either way, he couldn't rescind the offer now, not after the look it'd put on the younger man's face. He smiles at him, hoping for the best as he prepares plane tickets for the both of them in the first time in what feels like forever.

But it goes bad from moment one, Zeb Colter the first person they run into, Jack Swagger nowhere to be seen. Which Del Rio would ordinarily be relieved at, except that Colter's words can be as hurtful, if not worse, as Swagger's actions. Del Rio rests a hand on Ricardo's shoulder, supporting him when he looks uncertainly from his employer to the older man.

He goes on in his usual rhetoric about real Americans before leaning around Del Rio to get a good look at the ring announcer. "You know what's better than a mute immigrant? A de-"

Suddenly seeing red, Alberto pushes his way between the two men, rearing his fist back to punch the manager. "Get away from him!" he snaps, almost wanting to laugh bitterly as Zeb scrambles back, losing his balance and landing heavily on his ass before scooting back against the wall, eyes wide with fear. "Are you alright, mi amigo?" he whispers to Ricardo, who nods, eyes wide with fear as his breath hitches deep in his chest. "Let's get out of here."

As he leads the ring announcer back towards his personal locker room, he can't help but wonder if perhaps this all was a mistake after all... but he can't turn back now, the most he can do is keep a close eye on the younger man and then travel back home with him, where he'll be able to relax and put whatever else Colter or Swagger may say behind him, move past it. Except that things go much further south than that.

He stands by his silently crying friend barely an hour later, hand in his hair, watching as the trainer examines him with a solemn look on his face. "Broken ankle," he says needlessly, fingers careful against the lower leg of the younger man. "We'll set it, cast it... and he'll need to rest it, elevate it until we can take the cast off." As he walks off to prepare things, Ricardo sobs soundlessly, Alberto feeling like the lowest person in the world.

"Amigo," he breathes out, cupping the side of Ricardo's face, pressing his nose to his temple as his tears continue to shake through them both. "Lo siento, lo siento, I never expected- It wasn't supposed to be like this- por favor, forgive me, mi amigo..."

The ring announcer sniffs, hands trembling against Del Rio's shoulders as he stares up at him, shaking his head slowly. _Nothing to forgive,_ he mouths. _I agreed to come..._

Alberto cries too at this, shaking his head. "You never blame me for anything, mi amigo," he breathes out painfully, stroking his jaw. "It's not always... always your fault, these things. I am most often just as liable as you, if not more. I have just been too weak to admit so in the past."

Ricardo's face falls at his employer's tears, reaching up to wipe them away. _No,_ he refuses over and over again, eyes dark with pain. _Not you, El Patron._

"Si," he says. "Perhaps if I could've admitted my own shortcomings to myself, you wouldn't be constantly targetted like this... Would be able to speak, and- and..." His eyes drop to rest on where Ricardo's fingers are now linked with his own, squeezing tightly. "Amigo..." 

_I don't blame you._ Ricardo's eyes are clear as he mouths this, Del Rio shuddering at yet again being let off of the hook by the younger man. When they're allowed to leave the trainer's office, Alberto helps him through the arena to the car, where they once more drive to the hotel so the ring announcer can rest before another flight back home where he arrives in worse shape than when he'd left. Alberto wonders how much more of this Sofia also will endure before she refuses to allow him to take the ring announcer anywhere, rest avoiding him that night as he watches his best friend sleep on restlessly.

After another torturous day of travel, he and Ricardo once more trudge to the house, Sofia greeting them with soft words and gentle hugs, guiding Ricardo to his bed where she elevates his leg on pillows and brings him a glass of water to go with the new round of painkillers, barely looking over at Alberto as she bustles around. He doesn't blame her for the anger and disappointment, feeling much the same way towards himself as he sits next to his best friend, barely able to take in a full breath as he stares down at the cast on his ankle.

He thinks the ring announcer is asleep when a soft touch ghosts over his arm, startling him out of his thoughts. _Are you ok?_ Ricardo mouths and Alberto feels even worse, fumbling around for the iPad. "Gracias," he types once it's back in his possession. "I'm sorry I ruined your plans for this week-"

"No, no!" Del Rio cuts him off immediately. "It was _not_ you, mi amigo. I wish I had thought of all of the consequences of possibly bringing you. I just- I had hoped that this would help you, but instead it's only caused you more pain. I am so sorry, I-" He shakes his head, pressing his thumbs to his forehead. Shifting and sitting up so he can see the younger man better, he adjusts the sheets around Ricardo's upperbody. "I'm going to take Smackdown off this week and stay with you, make sure you're ok."

"That's not necessary," he quickly presses against the glass screen, frowning at his employer. "Sofia will take fine care of me, I don't want you to miss an event- I know how important they all are to you, especially now that you're champion. El Patron-"

"I know Sofia will take care of you, but she shouldn't have to. This was my idea, my responsibility, I failed completely, so now I'm going to be here for you, Ricardo."

The ring announcer blinks a time or two before typing slowly, his lips moving in time with the words filling the screen. "If you're sure, El Patron. I have missed spending more time with you lately."

"I have missed you as well, mi amigo," Alberto sighs. "It's not the same, traveling without you." Leaning back once he's done fussing with the sheets, content that his friend is sufficiently warm, he wraps an arm around Ricardo's shoulders, resting his jaw on top of Ricardo's hair. "We'll be lazy, and watch some movies, and do whatever else you feel up to doing. It'll be... it'll be nice, si?"

Ricardo nods, smiling slightly, the two of them listening to Sofia wandering back and forth through the house, keeping herself busy while they spend time together. Eventually the ring announcer falls asleep but Del Rio doesn't move, listening to his best friend breathing softly.

The rest of the week passes slowly, the younger man's first follow up on Friday going as smoothly as it possibly could, the doctor ordering x-rays for comparison, not wanting to miss anything, especially considering Ricardo's history. Alberto strokes his arm while the doctor examines them, the mute young man's hands held tense in his lap, murmuring to him in Spanish. Ricardo nods here and there, falling completely motionless as the doctor returns, pressing both x-rays to the board and lighting it up. "Things are looking alright," he hedges. "I wouldn't advise you to return to the WWE until you're further along in your recovery, but I foresee no issues."

Alberto sighs, relieved at this. "Doctor, when he was a teen," he offers, wanting to take that last bit of fear from Ricardo's eyes, "he broke his ankle and... infection set in, it was touch and go for awhile. I'm sure you see that in his records." The doctor nods, staring down at the file in his hands. "You don't see there being a similiar problem with this situation, do you?"

The doctor looks from man to man before shaking his head. "No, I don't. And just in case, we'll be keeping a close eye on his bone as it heals. If anything happens, medical advances in the last ten years will make it easier to fight whatever comes up, but I see nothing to worry about. Mr. Rodriguez, you're going to be just fine."

Ricardo closes his eyes in relief as Alberto pats his knee. "Thank you, Doctor." When they leave, Alberto smiles down at his ring announcer. "Si, you will be fine- in all ways, mi amigo. I promise."

His therapy sessions progress slowly the next few weeks, Alberto almost relieved to make it through the road to Wrestlemania on his own- Colter and Swagger grow more and more vicious with each passing week and Alberto doesn't even want to imagine what they'd do to a vulnerable, mute Ricardo, especially with his ankle still healing.

But Wrestlemania itself is different- it's special. He wants his best friend there to see how he avenges what the ugly man had done to him, to spend their third Wrestlemania together. So, after lengthy discussions with both Smackdown and Raw General Managers, who agree to add in stipulations to the contracts for the World Heavyweight Championship match that Swagger can't touch Ricardo without risking permanent suspension, it's official: Ricardo will be in Alberto's corner. The Mexican aristocrat couldn't be more pleased.

That Sunday, he leads Ricardo into the arena, hand warm on his shoulder as he helps him balance on the crutches while silently taking in the majesty of the whole event's proceedings. "I'm so glad the doctors and General Managers allowed this, mi amigo," he says softly, smiling when the ring announcer looks up at him, nodding in agreement. "Come, let's go to the locker room."

They walk quietly, slowly, through the halls, Alberto relieved that they only pass a few people who pay them little mind, Ricardo still anxious as he keeps as close to Alberto as possible thanks to his cumbersome crutches and cast. As soon as they arrive, Alberto bustles around, settling their bags down before carefully taking the crutches from his friend and helping him to sit down on a bench, using a steel chair to prop his foot up. "Alright?" As soon as Ricardo nods, he moves to change into his wrestling gear, too keyed up to wait any longer.

Once this is done, he turns back to his ring announcer, eyes softening when he finds him struggling to pull his tux out of his bag, looking up when Alberto joins him, cupping his hands. "There's plenty of time, mi amigo. I'll help you with that in a bit, si?" Ricardo nods, slowly releasing the clothes, and Alberto smiles, sitting next to him. "Pray with me, amigo?"

Ricardo agrees silently and they sit side by side, Alberto murmuring in Spanish while the ring announcer watches him, his bad leg stretched out in front of them. Finishing with a period of silent thought, Alberto looks up after almost a half an hour to find Ricardo's eyes closed, his lips parted as he mouths something- a prayer of his own, Alberto guesses. He smiles fondly and waits for the younger man to finish before ruffling his hair. "Come, amigo. Let's get you ready." He blinks in surprise, finding that Alberto had pulled out the rest of his suit, swallowing nervously as his employer helps him to stand, balancing warily until his walking brace is unstrapped and, with some fumbling, the two work together until his Zubaz pants are replaced by the slacks, the brace back where it belongs. Making sure that Ricardo is secure on his feet, Alberto looks sympathetically at him. "Alright?" Ricardo mouths _si, gracias,_ as Alberto rests his dress shirt and jacket into his hands, smiling down at him. "Any time, amigo."

He finishes getting dressed and Alberto puts the final touches onto his ring gear with his knee brace and wrist tape. "Time to go," Del Rio says softly, handing Ricardo's crutches over and helping where he can when the ring announcer struggles to his feet. "Ready?" The ring announcer nods with a faint, weary smile and Alberto leads him towards the titantron, keeping a close eye on anyone who looks like they may want to turn their Wrestlemania anxiety into physicality on either one of them.

Ricardo glances around uncertainly as they wait for their cue, Alberto's hand warm and steady against his arm. Finally they are motioned on, Del Rio's music starting to echo through the arena, but Ricardo stops him, a grim look in his eyes as he swallows and mouths, "Good luck, El Patron."

Chuckling sadly, missing hearing his best friend's voice yet again, Alberto pats his face. "Gracias, mi amigo. But I have no need for luck, I have you here with me. That's more than enough." Ricardo's responding grin is full of surprise and pride as they walk out to the ring to prepare for the biggest match of Alberto's career, at Wrestlemania as champion.

It goes well, thankfully, Swagger failing to defeat Del Rio, who feels somewhat vindicated for himself and his ring announcer as he walks out with his World title in hand, best friend by his side. He laughs and celebrates in the crowd of fans as Ricardo stands in front of him, Alberto's hand warm on his shoulder to keep him close and upright in the sea of people. Once Swagger and Colter have walked backstage, dejected, he helps the grinning man back up the ramp so they can get ready to leave, rest at the hotel before moving on to Raw the next night. Instead of sending Ricardo back home, he'd agreed to let him remain for the show, the both of them going back to Florida together afterwards.

But Alberto has something else on his mind so, after his own examination by the trainer, he leaves the younger man in the office, explaining that he has one last piece of business to attend to. Big Show had had some nothing match against The Shield earlier in the evening, and Alberto lurks around until he hears the unmistakable sound of the large man walking around, his footfalls echoing in the halls. That he had let him get away this long feels like nothing short of a crime, but he had had other, more pressing matters to tend to first- like making sure that Ricardo recovered _this_ much from the initial throat injury, then Swagger's terrible actions against Ricardo had kept Alberto even more distracted. But it's over now, Swagger is meaningless and Ricardo is safely stowed away in the trainer's office, which leaves Del Rio with time and opportunity.

Which he eagerly takes hold of with both hands, twisting and tearing until the large man is screaming and writhing within the unforgiving pressure of his armbar, his shoulder wrenching further out of socket beneath Alberto's hand, Finally he stands and spits down on the giant. "Never look at mi mejor amigo again, si?" Big Show only groans and squirms around in agony at his feet, Alberto watching him for a long moment before turning and walking back down the hallway, feeling some fulfillment at this.

This only grows as he returns to the trainer's office in time for him, to both of their relief, to confirm that soon he'll be able to take the boot off, be cleared to do average activities. "See?" Alberto tells him quietly, smiling. "Everything will be fine, mi amigo. You'll begin to talk again and everything will be perfect."

But it's not, Ricardo unable to do anything but watch from the sidelines as Dolph Ziggler cashes in on Alberto after his leg is injured by Jack Swagger the following night, becoming World Heavyweight champion before their very eyes. Ignoring his own injuries, Ricardo scrambles into the ring and hovers over his struggling best friend, face tense with grief for both the loss and his pain. Alberto huffs and groans as the referees and trainers examine his leg, reaching out for Ricardo who drops to his knees and holds his hand, listening anxiously as the trainer mutters to the referees as they prepare to move him.

He's somewhat lucky- his ankle hadn't been broken, it still swollen and painful to the touch however. They walk him back to the trainer's office morosely, Ricardo following slowly behind while struggling to hold onto both his crutch and emotions, mind racing with all that had happened in the last twenty minutes. Del Rio notices the look on his face, reaching out to pat his arm once he's settled on the cot. "It's going to be ok, mi amigo. I'll regain my title, don't worry."

Ricardo grips his hand and stares at him, eyes wide and wet. _Lo siento,_ he mouths. _My fault._

"Hardly!" Alberto shakes his head, gritting his teeth as the trainer slides his boot and knee brace off, quickly getting to work on reducing the swelling and pain. "This is not your fault, Ricardo. You have nothing to apologize for. We knew he would attempt to cash in at some point, and of course he would pick... the most inopportune time for... us. But I deserve a rematch, and I shall have it. Nothing is permanently lost."

Even so, no matter what he says to comfort his fragile ring announcer, the younger man continues to look like he's going to cry any moment so Alberto curls a hand around his shoulders and draws him in, holding him close as the trainer continues to work his magic. "It's ok, mi amigo," he mutters. "I hold none of this against you. You don't need to feel responsible for every little thing that goes wrong. It happens sometimes. We will continue to fight, si? Everything will be fine."

Ricardo nods and sniffs, clinging to him as they wait for the trainer to finish so they can leave, regroup at the hotel.

Time passes achingly slow after his title loss. Ricardo still can't speak, it still a waiting game to when he can get his brace off, and Alberto's own ankle is painful and hot, though he resists complaining whenever he looks down at his own best friend's much abused ankles, aware that he could have it much worse. He after all has no scars- physical _or_ emotional- from previous injuries. Big Show hadn't said or done anything following the attack after Wrestlemania, to Alberto's relief, so it allows him to keep his focus on Jack Swagger and Zeb Colter, the latest in a long line of people who had taken their anger needlessly out on Ricardo.

A couple of weeks after his title loss to Ziggler, Vickie approaches them with a look on her face that neither quite like. "I see you have finally had the ankle brace removed," she says with a gleeful kind of smirk as she glances down at Ricardo's pantlegs. He had indeed just had what would hopefully be his final visit with the trainer, who had taken the restrictive item away and encouraged him to continue with rehabbing his ankle until it was stronger and he felt more comfortable walking on it.

Alberto glares at her, stepping closer to his best friend and resting a hand on his shoulder. "What does that matter, Vickie?" he demands, his tone clipped and more than a little tense.

She beams at him, clearly getting the reaction she'd desired. "It means nothing... unless you no longer wish to have a chance at becoming World champion." He pales and glances down at his best friend, whose lips are twisted curiously. "In lieu of the triple threat match to be held at the upcoming pay per view, I have made a match tonight, Big E vs Zeb Colter vs Ricardo here, and whoever wins locks in their compadre's match preference." She sneers at them. "Good luck out there."

Zeb Colter is nothing, Alberto has no doubt that Ricardo could handle himself one on one with the annoying older man just fine. But Big E... is powerful, somewhat intimidating to even Del Rio sometimes, and he loathes the thought of his best friend anywhere within reach of him, especially after everything he'd been through. "Ay, I don't know," he mutters aloud, mind racing with prospects, one worst than the next. "It's not worth it if it brings you any further harm, mi amigo..."

But Ricardo's hand on his shoulder detracts from his distressed mumblings, Alberto's dark eyes resting on his best friend. _I want to do this for you,_ he mouths with no lack of determination on his face. _I'll be fine, El Patron._

Alberto hates himself even more for considering it but he aches for the World title, and Ricardo looks so confident, for the first time since he had lost his voice... that finally he finds himself agreeing, watching as the younger man's eyes light up and he lunges forward all but tackling his employer into a hug before racing off to prepare for the match. Which for him basically means borrowing some wrist tape, pulling on some Zubaz, the baggy pants soothing against his still sensitive ankles, and one of Alberto's merch shirts before doing a few tentative stretches, Alberto's brow furrowing as he overcompensates just a little for his ankle. "Are you sure about this?" he asks just before they leave for the ring, aware that once they pass the gorilla position, there is no turning back, and he wants the ring announcer to have plenty of time to speak up if he doesn't feel comfortable or confident in a situation.

Ricardo, however, nods vehemently, smiling a little as Alberto ruffles his hair before they go out to his theme music. It's hard to watch his best friend enter the ring while he, Ziggler, AJ and Swagger pace around outside, all glaring at each other in turn, but Ricardo's nervousness doesn't stop him from doing what needs to be done, successfully rolling Colter up into a pin after Alberto successfully distracts Big E. As they stumble up the ramp together, Alberto beaming exuberantly at his best friend, the younger man's eyes shine with happiness for the first time in Alberto's not sure how long. By the time they get back to the locker room, his smile has softened, a look of peace on his face. When their eyes lock again, Alberto is surprised by the expression on his face. Before he can ask, however, Ricardo licks his lips and mouths, _I'm not completely useless after all._

Del Rio is floored by this and he leans forward, staring into his best friend's face, horrified at the thought that the young man honestly thought such things of himself. "Of course you're not, mi amigo! You never have been, and never will be. Voice or no voice, you have always been capable and dependable. Never doubt that." Ricardo beams at him and Alberto sighs, looking over at a ladder. "What do you think, mi amigo? A ladder match?" They surround the weapon, the ring announcer looking up at it as Alberto grips it and tugs, testing its durability. He just notices as the ring announcer nods out of the corner of his vision and smiles. "I think so too, mi amigo. Now come, come." He wraps an arm around his shoulders and leads him away so they can go announce this decision to the world, pleased for the first time in he's not sure how long.

But things don't go well, even then. Swagger's recklessness gives Ziggler a concussion and keeps him from competing so the triple threat match that Ricardo had gone through facing Big E when still without his voice and fresh off of a terrible injury instead becomes a #1 contendership match against Swagger in an I Quit match. Ricardo is anxious and scared, and Alberto wishes he could do something more to ease his fear, but he can't. Even the Mexican aristocrat is unsure how the match will go, but he says nothing to Ricardo, just shaking his head when the younger man mouths further apologies, clearly wishing that the match he had won for his employer could've happened as planned. But what ifs gets them nowhere so he just smiles it away and tries to stay confident as he enters the ring, ready for whatever Swagger throws at him. He hopes so anyway.

It's a rough match and he's also trying to keep an eye on Colter so the xenophobic man would stay away from Ricardo, but no matter how many distractions he has, it doesn't keep him from his goal- he eventually gets Swagger to say those two amazing words, allowing Alberto to move on as #1 contendership for the title at Payback the following month. He laughs and grins as Ricardo takes his hand and holds it up in success, eyes shining at his employer as they marvel in the moment.

The happiness holds through to his birthday the following Saturday, when he wakes up to a bright, sunny Florida morning and stretches lazily before getting out of bed to see what Sofia or Ricardo are doing, the two of them always having their heads together for what to do on his birthdays. To his surprise, the house is quiet, each room he peers in empty, and he frowns, wondering if he had slept through some catastrophe, or if the two most important people in his life had somehow forgotten... but no, that makes absolutely no sense. He's about to find his cell phone and call the housekeeper when he randomly peers outside at the balcony, spotting something on the table. Venturing outside, he shivers as the chilly dew clings to his bare feet, but quickly shakes it off as he scoops up a sheet of paper, scanning it quickly.

His lips twitch as he ducks back inside, pulling on a pair of shoes before walking across the grounds to the pond off in the distance. Sure enough, his housekeeper and ring announcer are sitting there, patiently waiting for him, and as he approaches, they both look up at him, equally looks of happiness on their faces as they stand to greet him. Sofia hugs him warmly and pulls back, patting his face. "Feliz Cumpleanos, senor," she tells him quietly, eyes gleaming in the early morning sun.

"Gracias, Sofia," he responds, smiling at her before turning to his best friend, who looks anxious and nervous underneath his happiness. "Mi amigo, buenos dias," he says, overwhelmed once more by sadness that he won't get to hear Ricardo wishing him a happy birthday today, if ever again. Not that he would admit it to the nearly shattered younger man, but with more time passing, the less hope he finds he has that Ricardo will ever be able to speak again. It makes him wish he could go back in time and injure Big Show worse... Shaking it off, he claps Ricardo on the shoulders and tries to smile at him, before observing the ring announcer glancing over furtively at Sofia. He looks over too, to find her nodding confidentally at the younger man. "What's going on?" he asks, frowning at the two. "Sofia-"

She just smiles and stares at Ricardo as he shifts awkwardly and regains Alberto's attention, the anxious man releasing a mute sigh before looking his employer in the eye, brows furrowed in concentration as he licks his lips. The moment becomes charged with tense anticipation as he opens his mouth, hesitates and finally says, with some struggle, "Fe- Feliz Cumple- Cumpleanos, E- El Patron." After such a lengthy period of disuse, his voice is weak, low, and cracks often, but it's more than enough. Del Rio's eyes fill with tears as he pulls Ricardo close in a tight hug, murmuring into his hair as he absorbs the moment, his fears slowly fading away.

"Mi amigo," he gasps, drawing away and cupping his face, staring into his eyes. "How- when-?"

Talking is still a struggle but he works through it, smiling vaguely. "It began after the... match- I won," he nods. "Wanted to ... sur- surprise you on y- your birthday."

Sofia steps in then and smiles at the joy, relief and shock on Alberto's face, resting her hands on both man's arms. "He's going to need more appointments with the speech therapist, and his regular therapist, but it's quite a few steps in the right direction." She beams at the ring announcer as he nods, relieved that she's taking over explaining for him.

"Yes it is," Alberto mutters, looking over at her. "You knew about this?"

"Si," she says. "I've been helping him with his vocal exercises. He's making more and more progress every day." Alberto nods blankly, mind working a million miles an hour as he stares out at nothing before she clears her throat softly, his eyes roaming to rest on her face. "You're going to have your ring announcer back by your side in the WWE permanently very soon, senor."

His smile is brilliant and painful all at the same time as he nods jerkily, pulling Ricardo against his side once more and ruffling his hair. "I'm glad," he mutters, sighing quietly as the last few months of feeling worthless eases off of his already overwhelmed shoulders slightly. "So glad. Muchas gracias, it's the best birthday surprise ever."


End file.
